


Always Watching

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-01
Updated: 2006-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: Ron describes how he watched Harry and what came of it.





	Always Watching

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: This was my entry at [](http://community.livejournal.com/hpdissemination/profile)[**hpdissemination**](http://community.livejournal.com/hpdissemination/) for [](http://hailiebu.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hailiebu.livejournal.com/)**hailiebu**. Theme was wanking. Many heartfelt thanks and my undying gratitude go out to Kate for the beta.   


* * *

The first time I watched him was a total accident. We’d had a particularly grueling Quidditch practice since the Slytherin match was coming up on Saturday, and Harry stayed behind to shower. The boys on the team usually just did a perfunctory cleaning charm so we wouldn’t gross out our mates at dinner and then we bathed in the comfort of Gryffindor tower later, but every once in a while someone would decide they couldn’t wait. To look at Harry, no one questioned his decision, so the rest of us headed back to the castle without him. We’d just got to the bottom of the stairs to the castle when I realized I’d forgotten my bag back in the changing rooms. I begged the others to save me some dinner and ran back to fetch it.

When I got to the changing rooms, I heard the water running in the showers. Sure enough, I’d left my bag right in the middle of the bench. I picked it up and was about to head back to the castle, when I realized that Harry was probably almost done and we might as well walk back together.

I set my bag down and poked my head through the doorway to the showers to tell him I was waiting. I’d opened my mouth to speak, but clamped it shut immediately when I saw what he was doing. Gods, he was wanking in the shower.

I knew he couldn’t see me because I could mostly only see his backside, but it was fairly obvious what he was doing, particularly after a low moan escaped from his lips and echoed off the shower walls. Then he turned to reach for more soap, and I got a better view. Fuck, he was huge! I’d seen him before in a more…um… relaxed state, and he seemed pretty average; but then everything about Harry was more impressive than it seemed at first glance.

Okay, so it was totally wrong, and I knew that I should have turned tail and gone right back up to the castle, but I was rooted to the spot, unable to avert my eyes. Because, you know, I’d never really _seen_ anyone else wank before. Oh, I’d heard them plenty of times. Before any of us learned during fifth year how to do a silencing charm on our beds, it was totally obvious when someone was jerking off, and it didn’t particularly bother or excite me. I suppose I was used to being able to tune out noises what with five brothers and a sister. And even now, Neville messed up his charm most of the time, so you could always hear him. But seeing Harry – it was really different.

I barely noticed how hard my own cock had become watching him until I gave in to the urge to touch myself and had to bite back my own moan. It was more than wrong. I shouldn’t have got a hard-on by watching my best mate wank in the shower – hell, I shouldn’t have even been watching him in the first place. But there I was, matching his rhythm with my hand. I realized I was watching Harry’s muscular back and the perfect curve of his arse, thinking about how nice it would be to touch it. These thoughts disturbed me so much that I almost missed noticing that Harry had sped up his motions and was on the brink of his climax. When he came, he threw his head back, twisting his body just enough so that I could see his expression of anguished ecstasy. It was amazing. Amazingly erotic. And I was really close to coming in my trousers.

As quietly as I could, I backed out of the shower area and slipped outside. I lowered my zip, took out my cock and quickly tossed off, spraying my come into the bushes.

Fuck. That was so wrong on so many levels, I was sure I’d be struck dead for having such thoughts. I mean, I’d watched Harry wank like some queer Peeping Tom, and had got so excited that I’d come. And I’d been ogling his arse. How sick and abnormal could you get? But see, the thing is, I didn’t really _feel_ sick and abnormal. My brain was telling me that I ought to feel ashamed and disgusted, but all I felt was really turned-on. It was Harry, my best mate. I’d been watching him since I was eleven – it’s just that I’d now given “watching” a whole new meaning.

I quickly pulled myself back together and cleaned up a bit. Then I loudly entered the changing rooms, slamming the door behind me so that Harry would know I was there. He was just pulling on his trousers.

“Ron? I thought you went back to the castle with the others.”

I shrugged. “Yeah – got all the way there and realized I’d left my bag here.” I pointed to the bag and Harry nodded. “I’ll wait for you – are you almost ready?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

Again, I caught myself staring at Harry’s bare chest as he tied his trainers before putting his jumper back on. It should have felt more wrong than it did. What the hell did this mean?

Harry chattered amicably all the way back to the castle. Evidently he didn’t know that I’d seen him wank because there was no awkwardness towards me. I, on the other hand, felt totally self-conscious. That encounter in the showers had made a bigger impact on me than I wanted to admit.

~*~*~

I don’t think you could really call the second time an “accident.” I’d gone to bed before Harry and had this disturbing dream that I was Keeper for England and playing in the World Cup when a Bludger knocked me off my broom. In the dream, I fell forty feet, but I woke up in a cold sweat just before hitting the ground. I sat up with my heart pounding and decided I needed a drink of water before I’d be able to get back to sleep.

When I started to pull my curtains aside, I got quite an eyeful. Harry usually kept his curtains partially open on my side when the night sky was clear. He liked to watch the moon as he was drifting off to sleep, and he had an excellent view of the window from that side of his bed. Of course, the trade off was a lack of privacy, but I think he didn’t mind since I was the one in the next bed. Anyway, on this particular night, Harry had his curtains open, and I could clearly see that he was wanking. He’d used the charm, so I couldn’t hear anything, and from my bed, I couldn’t see his face. What I did see was his left hand wrapped around his cock – huge again (damn!) – while his right hand moved over his torso, his balls, everywhere, really. This was astonishing to me, because I was pretty much a lick-the-hand-and-pump kind of wanker. But Harry was really exploring his body, repeating those actions that must have felt particularly nice. He’d told me how much time he’d spent alone last summer – he’d obviously found a way to occupy himself. I told myself that I was only watching because I wanted to learn this novel technique, but there was no denying that it was an incredible turn-on. There was just enough moonlight to set apart Harry’s body from the darkness of his bed, and I found myself fighting back the urge to go over and touch him.

I rubbed my growing bulge as I watched Harry bring himself off, sensing when he was close by the way his hips raised off the bed with each stroke, the fingers of his right hand pressing on the tender skin just below his sac. Again, watching Harry come was incredibly erotic. My need for water forgotten, I found my wand and cast a silencing charm before removing my pyjamas and trying to emulate what Harry had just done.

It was good – really good. I’d never touched that spot under my balls before, at least not while I was wanking, and I instantly understood why Harry’s fingertips kept returning there. It was brilliant. It didn’t take that much imagination to picture Harry as I wanked, pretending it was his hands encircling my cock and roaming over my body. As excited as I was, and with all that extra stimulation, it didn’t take me long to come harder than ever before.

It was only afterwards that I realized that I’d completely violated Harry’s privacy one more time, viewing his intimate ministrations while thinking thoughts that should have been highly disturbing but weren’t. Surely watching your best mate wank didn’t make you gay, did it? Harry should have closed his curtains if he wanted to ensure his privacy. It wasn’t my fault that I could see him. Of course, I didn’t exactly go out of my way to shut my own curtains. Bloody hell, it was so confusing.

~*~*~

Having lost all of my integrity by spying on Harry in his private moments, I soon began to anticipate them. When Harry hung back to take a shower after Quidditch, I’d pretend to leave and then sneak back in to spy on him in the shower. Sometimes he really did just shower, but most of the time, he would wank. I couldn’t stop myself from watching. It was so sexy and his body was so perfect, I found myself wanting to touch him the way he touched himself. After he’d come, I’d race outside, bring myself off and hurry up to the castle before anyone was wiser.

At night, I’d peek out of my curtains after I heard the others fall asleep to see if he was wanking. It didn’t happen that often – at least not as much as I wanted it to – and sometimes there wouldn’t be enough light coming through the window for me to be able to see anything except a dark silhouette moving behind the curtains. But every once in a while, I’d see something so spectacular that it was worth losing a little sleep.

One night, I’d had to endure the sound of Seamus snoring and Neville jerking off, and I was about to give up on Harry when I heard his bed creak and then suddenly go silent. It sounded suspiciously like a silencing charm, so I opened my curtains slightly, casting a silencing charm of my own. Sure enough, I could see Harry shifting around in his bed, completely removing his pyjamas. This was different: usually he just pulled them down. I was curious when he opened a jar and dipped his fingers inside. Harry’s back was facing the gap in his curtains, but I thought he might be spreading that substance on his cock. I’d heard some boys did that regularly; I could never afford whatever that stuff must cost, so I didn’t think much about it.

Harry turned just enough so that I could see him from the side. His hand was indeed sliding up and down the length of his cock, and he shifted his hips as he fucked his hand. Gods, it was beautiful to watch. I was rock hard, and I thought it might be possible to come just from watching.

I didn’t think it could get any hotter until I saw Harry dip his fingers back in the jar. His back was facing the gap in the curtains again, and I could see his arm reach between his legs and his finger spread the stuff from the jar all around his hole. I watched in fascination as he worked his own finger inside, pressing it in and removing it, going a little further each time. After a number of attempts, he got the entire digit inside and wiggled it around for a bit. Maybe a minute passed before he pulled it back out and got some more stuff from that jar. Next thing I knew, he was trying to get two fingers in there. And it worked, too. I’d never even considered doing that, until I saw Harry, fucking himself with his own fingers. Every once in while he’d arch his back, and then pump his fingers a little harder.

I couldn’t believe how turned on I was. This was definitely something you wanted to do without an audience, yet here I was again, watching Harry fuck himself with one hand, and I could see that he was probably rubbing his cock with the other. I didn’t even notice that I was humping my pillow, and I came when he did without even touching myself.

There was no denying it now. I was a sick fuck for watching Harry wank even once, and the fact that I kept seeking him out made me a total pervert. I couldn’t stop, though. I was like one of those pathetic wizards you see at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, begging for spare knuts so they can buy a bottle of firewhisky. Or like those Muggles Dean told us about that smoke this weird stuff called ‘crack’ that eats their brains, but they keep going back for more.

Yet, during the regular school day, Harry and I got on as normally as ever. I watched him all the time, of course, but he didn’t seem to notice or think I was a fucking pervert or anything. I managed to keep from embarrassing myself, and things between us were good.

Then one day, when we were the only ones hanging out in the common room late one Friday morning, Harry looked at me critically and said, “Ron, if I ask you a personal question, will you answer it?”

I was a little worried that he was going to confront me about watching him, but I tried not to let him see my concern. Besides, he was my best mate – we told each other everything – well, almost everything. “Sure,” I replied.

“Well, er, I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything, but, um…”

“Just ask me. I won’t be upset.”

Harry screwed up his face, looking as if he was changing his mind from what he’d been planning to say. “Have you ever noticed that you and I seem to be the only two who don’t date?”

“Neville’s not dating anyone. And I think Terry Boot broke up with that witch from Slytherin that he was going out with for a while.”

Harry’s expression worried me. He was on the verge of spilling some Really Big Thing that was on his mind. I’d seen it a hundred times before. Shit – what if he knew I’d been watching him?

Harry shook his head. “Yeah, but even Neville has had sex – last year with that Hufflepuff sixth year. I haven’t even gone on a date in almost two years.”

I smirked at him. “Harry, if I’d been on that particular date with Cho Chang, I’d have sworn off dating forever, too. But I"can see your point. I only went out that one time with Hermione.” I couldn’t hold back a grimace at the memory of that disaster.

“Oh, sorry. Shouldn’t have brought that up.” Harry looked around the room, checking to make sure we were still alone. “See, the thing is, Ron, I don’t actually _want_ to ask out any girls.”

“So don’t,” I said matter of factly. I couldn’t see why he was making such a big deal out of this. I’d looked at the pool of available girls and didn’t see anyone _I_ wanted to date either. Although, I’d considered asking someone out to try to get her to have sex with me just so I could stop obsessing about Harry’s wanking.

“Don’t you think that makes me, er, abnormal?” Harry’s eyes locked on mine – it was obvious he was pretty concerned about this.

I shrugged. “Well, if you’re abnormal, then so am I. Because there isn’t a single witch at Hogwarts that I’m interested in dating either. They’re just so…girly.”

Harry looked relieved. I didn’t have any idea what he’d expected me to say, but I must have done all right, because he became much more relaxed. To tell the truth, I was more relaxed, too. If Harry actually found himself a girlfriend, then he’d probably have sex with her and wouldn’t need to wank as much anymore. Of course, as soon as I had this thought, I chastised myself again for being a pervert.

~*~*~

Our little conversation seemed to have brought about a change in the way Harry regarded me, because he started watching me closely and catching me as I watched him. Whenever it happened, he’d smile, so at least I knew he wasn’t angry about it or anything. But it did make it difficult to carry on the way I had been. He almost never stayed back to shower after Quidditch anymore, but I noticed that he now had the habit of stripping down to his boxers the moment he entered the changing rooms, and he was always the last one dressed. He dawdled so much that we usually sent the others on ahead and walked back together by ourselves. I never minded, though: it was nice to be with him.

There was that one day, though, when I completely embarrassed myself. We were in the changing rooms before Quidditch. Harry was prancing around in his boxers, as usual, and for some reason, I couldn’t get the image of watching him wank in the shower that very first time out of my head. It was the way he held his posture, I think. As he sat on the bench fiddling with one of his boots that had been giving him trouble, his back was towards me. In my mind’s eye, I could remember how enticing his shoulders had looked as he stood under the shower spray and how much I’d wanted to touch him then.

Without thinking, I reached out and slid my hand over the expanse of Quidditch-toned muscles, from his right shoulder down to the middle of his back. It did feel nice…until my brain realized just what the hell I’d done. Harry turned around to face me almost instantly. I snatched my hand away.

“Sorry,” I muttered, “I lost my balance.” Lost my mind is more like it. But Harry seemed to accept my feeble explanation and bent back over his boot.

I was not so lucky as to be able to forget about it. I’d touched Harry a hundred different times this year, the result of incidental contact that comes from sharing the same space for so much of the time. But this was totally different. I’d touched him because I wanted him. I was attracted to him, and not in the best mate sort of way. I finally admitted to myself how much I wanted my hands to do all those things I’d seen Harry do to himself. I thought, for the first time ever, that maybe I’d fallen for someone. Maybe I wasn’t just a sick fuck who liked watching other boys get off; maybe I just liked watching Harry get off because he was _Harry_.

Opening my mind to this obscure possibility meant that I had my worst Quidditch practice since I first joined the team in the fifth year. I couldn’t concentrate to save my life, and I let Quaffle after Quaffle through the hoops.

Harry came over after about fifteen minutes. “Where’s your head today, Ron?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t exactly tell him that only minutes before, I’d realized that I was in love with him, could I? “I think there must be something wrong with my kneepads. I just can’t get comfortable on my broomstick today,” I offered lamely. Harry looked at me with skepticism, but didn’t call me a liar.

“Why don’t you go back to the equipment shed and sort out your problem. You’re totally useless out here, so we’ll practice some other drills that don’t require a Keeper.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Sorry, Harry.”

I could feel his eyes watching me as I went back to the ground. I hated disappointing him, but I didn’t know what else to do. To say I wasn’t comfortable on my broomstick was an understatement. I wasn’t comfortable anywhere: my newly discovered feelings were making that impossible.

Near the end of practice, I returned to the pitch and managed to be a bit more effective. It still wasn’t my best play, but I did stop a few goals. I found that if I ignored Harry diving and weaving in and out of the goalposts, then I did much better. As soon as he moved to my line of vision, though, I’d mess up again.

Harry called practice and put me out of my misery. “You all right, mate?” he asked as we walked to the changing rooms.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. You know, final year of Quidditch, N.E.W.T.s, You-Know-Who – the usual stuff. I think I’ll just shower down here and see if I can’t sort out my head.”

Harry nodded. “Sure. Just let me know if I can help.”

Harry did not dawdle or prance around in his boxers or anything. He changed swiftly and left with the others. I heaved a great sigh of relief when I heard the door slam.

I turned on the water and stood under the spray. I knew damn well what my problem was. As soon as I’d touched him, I’d made it real. Before that, my obsession with Harry was simply a warped fantasy that existed only in my depraved thoughts. I’d looked, but not touched. As long has Harry didn’t know, it didn’t really matter what went on in my head; I wasn’t hurting him, and he was none the wiser. But the moment I’d touched him, it was no longer a fantasy. He was right there, flesh under my fingertips. And he knew that I’d touched him.

And bloody hell, now that I’d admitted everything to myself, what was I supposed to do about it? I wanted to touch him so bad, it made my fingers itch. How was I to get through N.E.W.T.s if I couldn’t even concentrate on Quidditch, which I love? This was going to be bad, and I knew it.

I reached for the soap, and naturally my hand gravitated to my cock. I was no stranger to wanking in the shower, and I remembered watching Harry standing under this very showerhead, bringing himself off while I watched, hidden from view. My wanking habits had definitely changed since watching Harry. No longer content to simply pump up and down, I rubbed my cock steadily with one hand, while the other pinched my nipples, gently squeezed my balls and pressed on that sensitive spot that I’d learned about from him. I’d never put my fingers up my arse the way I’d seen Harry do it, but I figured soap wasn’t the best substance to use if I was going to try that. Anyway, I had an image of Harry doing just that in my mind as I imagined my cock breaching his hole. Gods, I wanted to know what it felt like to fuck someone – no, to fuck Harry, with his perfect arse and beautiful broad shoulders. My eyes shut tightly as I fucked my hand, pretending it was Harry’s arse and that Harry was moaning in front of me, wanting me and pleading with me to go harder and faster.

“Harry,” I moaned as my come shot all over the bathroom tile.

And then I heard a moan that sounded like Harry. But I was done with my fantasy now, so I shouldn’t have heard it. My eyes flew open and I caught sight of a mop of raven hair, sticking out from around the corner of the shower. It quickly disappeared.

“Harry?” I called. “Is that you?” I wasn’t positive I’d seen anything, but if not, my imagination was getting very vivid.

I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. When I moved to the changing area, I saw him: straddling the bench and holding his head in his hands.

He had seen everything, then, and heard me call his name as I came. And the very thought of me wanting him like that was making him sick. Because looking at him, his face blotchy and red, he seemed as if he’d rather be facing You-Know-Who than me right now. I had to say something.

“Harry,” I began.

He cut me off. “Ron, I’m so sorry. I had no right to watch you like that, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again.” He refused to look me in the eye.

Gods, this was easily the most awkward moment of my life. I was pretty sure he’d heard me call his name, but he seemed to be more concerned about invading my privacy. Like I hadn’t done the same to him about a million times. At least he was man enough to admit it. I was still acting like a naughty child who hadn’t got caught yet.

“Never mind, Harry. I’ve, um, well, I’ve watched you too. I should have said something. Maybe we could just call it even.” I swallowed. Even, my arse. He’d have to watch me every day for a month in order for it to be even, but as humiliated as I was, there was no way I’d admit that.

A lot of the color drained from Harry’s face. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but it was too late to take it back now. “You’ve seen me?” he asked with horror.

Oh, hell. Now he was going to be pissed off at me. “Yeah. I should have, um, looked away but it was…um… really hot.”

“I know!” Harry finally looked me in the eye. “I was just checking to make sure you were all right, and then I saw you and… Gods, Ron!”

I felt a tiny shiver of excitement race through my body, which I attributed to relief over the fact that maybe I wasn’t a total pervert, but merely exhibiting normal seventeen-year-old boy behavior. However, it might have been the look in Harry’s eyes as he’d said my name – like he might not have been thoroughly disgusted by what he’d seen after all.

I turned my back and dried off, thinking that while things might not be okay between us yet, we sure as hell weren’t going to be able to have a normal conversation while I was wearing only a towel. I stood up to pull on my underwear and felt Harry’s warm breath on the back of my neck. Another shiver ran down my spine, and I spun around quickly. Harry’s mouth was only inches from mine.

“You called my name in there,” Harry said quietly. His eyes were glittery behind his glasses. He didn’t seem too upset.

Gods, he was so close, and his lips! They shined after he licked them. And I wanted to touch, because I knew that if I touched it would be real, but there was no way I could touch because this could not possibly be happening.

He’d asked me a question, but I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say, so I just answered, “Yeah.”

“Were you thinking about me then?”

I knew the answer to this one. “Yeah.”

I don’t really remember much after that, because Harry’s lips were on mine and we were kissing, and even though neither of us really knew how to kiss, we did it anyway. And it was like I’d been waiting my whole life to kiss him like that.

Harry had me pressed up against the lockers in no time, grinding his hips against me. Feeling Harry’s cock pressing into me made mine come to life again, even though it had only been a few minutes since the last time I came. Harry kissed me greedily, and I wondered how I’d missed the signs that he was interested in me in that way. Harry began to lick my neck, and I could feel my knees start to give way.

“Harry,” I panted, “why didn’t you say anything to me before? I’ve liked you for ages.”

Harry looked up at me, his bright eyes shining through fogged glasses. “I tried to, a couple of weeks ago. I was going to tell you that I thought I was gay because I thought there might be a chance that you were too. You seemed happier not knowing, though, so I chickened out. But then I saw you, er, in the shower...”

I didn’t want to talk about that. Now that the tables had turned and I’d been the one who was watched, I could imagine just how embarrassed Harry would be if he ever knew just how many times I’d watched him. So in order to distract him, I kissed him again. It worked very well.

It wasn’t really fair, though, because while I was standing there wearing nothing but my boxers, Harry was fully dressed. That had to be remedied or I thought I might die.

“Harry,” I said, “you haven’t showered yet.” I unfastened the clasp of his robes and they fell to the floor. He sort of stared at me in amazement, yet he didn’t protest when I unzipped his trousers. By the time I lifted his jumper over his head, Harry was grinning.

“Are you going to watch while I shower?” he asked with a smirk.

I shook my head and then pulled my boxers off. He took his off, too. “I thought I might help you wash your back,” I said.

Harry set his glasses on the shelf of his locker. “Brilliant, because there are a few spots I have trouble reaching.”

Being the pervert I am, I remembered him trying to reach one of those spots with his own hand and it made my cock even harder. I grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him into the shower, because, damn! I needed to touch his body and make this real.

I used to think that “make love” was a euphemism for fucking that you said in front of your parents so you wouldn’t get in trouble for bad language. But as Harry stood under the stream of shower spray, I made love to him with each stroke that rubbed soap deep into his skin. There was hardly an inch that went unexplored by lips and fingers. When I wrapped my hand around his cock, slippery from the soap, Harry let out a keening noise, almost as if it was painful. But the expression on his face said otherwise, and soon, his hand was wrapped around my cock, too. We kissed as we brought each other off under the spray of the shower.

Harry called my name when he came, and I called his a few moments later. We rubbed each other’s spunk into our bodies before washing it off with the long forgotten soap. We stood there on our jelly legs, holding each other for support, having no desire to move. Finally, the water turned cold, and we realized someone might come looking for us soon.

~*~*~

I still watch Harry sometimes. The difference is that I tell him when I’m looking and he doesn’t mind. He’s sort of a show-off, actually. And we keep thinking that one of the other boys on the Quidditch team is going to catch on to the fact that we’ve begun showering after practice instead of waiting until after dinner.

Some people can be so thick.  



End file.
